I read recently a book called A Field guide to the English Clergy by Revd Fergus Butler-Gallie. It was not the most highbrow book in the library; but was very entertaining as there have been some pretty unusual and eccentric clergy over the years.
Take for example the Revd Robert Hawker (1803 – 1875) who appeared to have a dual calling both as a priest and a mermaid: he fashioned a wig out of seaweed, wrapped an oilskin around his legs and then, every evening, rowed a boat out into Bude harbour where he sat on a rock and sang. Having somehow successfully completed his training as a curate in Bude, he became vicar of Morwenstow where he was often seen wearing a bright purple coat, a blue fisherman’s jersey and red trousers. He lived with a collection of ten cats who would follow him to church, until, one Sunday, one of his feline housemates was publicly excommunicated for “mousing” on a Sunday. If you visit Morwenstow today you can still visit “Hawker’s Hut” – the smallest property owned by the National Trust and built by this reverend gentleman.
Or take Revd Thomas Patten, Vicar of Seasalter: he was famous for preaching incredibly long sermons which would only end when a member of the congregation offered to buy him drinks at the local pub, at which point he would immediately end the sermon, speak a rushed blessing, leave the pulpit and head for the bar. He also made a deal with the local smuggling fraternity: he warned them of the whereabouts of excise officers, in return for which he had a well-stocked cellar with fine wines and brandy.
Evidence for both, though, is that they were loved by their parishioners, despite their oddities, because they tried in God’s name to show God’s love to their communities – and surely that is a calling we could all commit ourselves too, whatever our spiritual journey. And these eccentricities also point to a rich way of life – our modern world seems keen to squeeze out such unusual behaviour, yet something is surely lost.
In my last parish in Jersey, I did a lot of churchyard research and have just finished a book on those buried there. It involved, in the first place, going out at night with a torch and holding it at a 90 degree angle to the grave – that enabled often the picking out of old names on a memorial which could not be read in daylight. I later discovered that these nocturnal meanderings had caused much amusement
One of the great privileges of being a Rector is that it does give time for being a mermaid or deciphering graves in the dark – in a busy world where many jobs do not allow what might be thought such a luxury – and literature is littered with Anglican clergy writing journals and diaries, books on natural science and local history. But perhaps not such a luxury: the church stands for the love of God revealed by Jesus Christ and whether it be recording the beauty of nature and the changing seasons, or recording stories of people now long gone, or even just deciphering old graves and bringing lost names to light – long may that eccentric tradition continue.
Peter